


see yourself out

by billionairevolleyboysclub



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Setting – Timeskip, Friends With Benefits, I’m warning you right now Akaashi is a bit of a wh/re, M/M, Post-Time Skip, i don't even know how to tag this honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:14:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28087554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/billionairevolleyboysclub/pseuds/billionairevolleyboysclub
Summary: It’s been two months since Onigiri Miya opened a temporary Tokyo pop-up not far from Akaashi Keiji’s university.It’s also been two months since Akaashi Keiji cornered him after the grand opening and slammed their mouths together in his stockroom.“Wait,” Osamu breathes out between Akaashi Keiji’s honestly quite frantic kisses. “Aren’t ya with Bokuto-san?”“We’re on a break,” Akaashi Keiji replies calmly, face as inscrutable as ever as he brings their faces back together.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu
Comments: 14
Kudos: 187





	see yourself out

**Author's Note:**

> the whole “akaashi sleeps w osamu while he and bokuto are on a break” began as a throwaway line in a much lighter krtsk fic i’m writing and low and behold this hijacked my brain and got finished first 
> 
> enjoy the filth
> 
> this takes place during akaashi's second year in uni / before hinata comes back from brazil

It’s been two months since Onigiri Miya opened a temporary Tokyo pop-up not far from Akaashi Keiji’s university. 

It’s also been two months since Akaashi Keiji cornered him after the grand opening and slammed their mouths together in his stockroom. 

“Wait,” Osamu breathes out between Akaashi Keiji’s honestly quite frantic kisses. “Aren’t ya with Bokuto-san?” 

“We’re on a break,” Akaashi Keiji replies calmly, face as inscrutable as ever as he brings their faces back together. 

Osamu wants to say more, thoughts running through his mind while Akaashi Keiji, whom he frankly has only seen a handful of times before in his life (while _yes,_ appreciating the sight), at his _boyfriend’s_ volleyball games, pushes him up against the bags of rice on the wall with two fists in his shirt.

_What do you mean a break? How long have you wanted to fuck me? Is Bokuto gonna smash my face in when he finds out??_

Akaashi pulls away to breathe for only a second before he neatly takes his glasses off his face to fold them into the pocket of his coat and takes it upon himself to also pull off Osamu’s cap as he tilts his face back up for another kiss. 

Akaashi’s tongue licks its way into his mouth and suddenly Osamu forgets about his questions entirely. 

++ 

Somehow an impromptu makeout session turns into Akaashi Keiji demanding he bend him over right then and there and Osamu, much too eagerly for the sake of his sanity, complying. 

It also turns into Akaashi Keiji riding him in the backseat of his truck when he texts him asking if he wants him to drop off some of the leftover onigiri of the day at his dorm. _It’s not too far of a drive_ Osamu texts out, but before he can send it Akaashi has already responded _Yes. I need you. And the food._

And Akaashi Keiji sharing his location with him on his phone as Osamu traverses a campus that he is _not a student at_ just to meet Akaashi in a private study room thirty minutes before midnight because Akaashi “ _needs a study break._ ”

There are bags under his eyes and a fat hickey on his neck when he shows up to work the next day and his staff rib him all day for details. He laughs it off, knowing they truly _do not_ want the details of exactly how Akaashi Keiji, eyes wide and hair a bit wild from running his hands through it all night as he struggled through another paper, pulled him into a study room with a grip hard enough to bruise and oh-so politely asked Osamu to fuck him until he couldn’t remember his name anymore. 

That was one of the more frantic meetings, although if Osamu is being honest with himself, they all tend to be in the same vein. 

Akaashi texts him his location, or asks if he’s working late and what time everyone will have left, or sends him explicit photos of himself and calls him at two in the morning to tell him that _he’s got two fingers inside of himself and wants to know exactly how he’d fuck him if he were here_ when he’s just finished up at the library and is still buzzing on a mix of sleep deprivation and pure procrastinatory libido. 

And don’t get Osamu wrong, he loves it. He loves the way Akaashi switches from Myaa-sam to _Osamu_ when Osamu’s biting at the sweat accumulating on his collarbones, or when Akaashi pulls at his hair hard enough to hurt as he slowly comes apart under Osamu’s tongue. 

There are also things he likes less; like the way he’ll let Osamu call him _baby_ but not babe, and only while they’re having sex. Or the way he somehow gets out of coming over to Osamu’s apartment every single time, enough that Osamu teases him about it the next time he’s deep inside him, hand pushing the side of his face flat against the table. 

_“I think ya like doing this in public places_ ,” Osamu hisses, letting his tone get a little bit mean. “ _I think it turns you on._ ” 

Annoyingly, he’s also only been invited over to Akaashi’s dorm once, when a sudden phone call interrupted his already short lunch break to inform him that “ _I have thirty minutes before my next class and I want your hand around my neck–”_ before he was jumping into his truck and texting him _what fuckin floor are you on_ –

Overall though, he thinks he can’t complain too much. 

++

He makes the mistake of mentioning it to Suna the next time he calls, immediately regretting giving voice to a (mostly) nice thing, no surer way guaranteeing it’ll unravel. 

“I think he just wants to fuck me.” He comments, stirring the contents of his pan as he stands in his apartment’s kitchen, phone balanced between his ear and his shoulder. “I don’t think he actually likes me all that much.” 

“Is that so bad?” Suna asks absentmindedly. Osamu can hear the opening and closing of a locker and the distant chatter of his team in the background. 

He thinks about the small, soft smile Akaashi throws him when he brings him free food after a long day of classes. Before they get into the whole tongue-down-the-throat thing. 

“I guess not,” Osamu replies. “And I’m not quite sure what’s happenin’ with the whole thing with Bokuto.”

“Maybe it’s a sex thing. You ever heard about cucking?” 

Osamu frowns. 

“Stop being vulgar in the middle of the yer locker room.” 

++

Atsumu straight up laughs at him when he finds out. 

“AKAASHI KEIJI ‘Samu?” He yells into the reciever, always so fuckin’ loud. 

“Why ya always so fuckin’ loud?” Osamu complains, moving the receiver slightly further from his ear. 

Astumu ignores him. 

“Jesus ‘Samu,” he continues. “You really know how to pick ‘em.”

“Technically, he picked me,” Osamu grumbles, remembering the almost-feverish way Akaashi Keiji showed up after hours at Onigiri Miya to push Osamu up against his own produce. 

“I’m not sure that makes it any better.” Atsumu replies. 

Osamu manages to change the subject, talking about the success of the pop-up, their parents, the Jackals' chance at the title this year. 

They’re about to hang up when Astumu’s tone gets serious for a second. 

“Really though ‘Samu.” He starts, “Be careful. I don’t think you want to get involved in that. Trust me.”

Osamu is silent for a second before deciding to take the bait.

“What are ya talking about.”

“Bokkun’s been an absolute monster at practice lately and I don’t think anyone’s even told him what his _sweet Akaashi Keiji_ has been getting up to yet.”

Osamu feels his veins turn to ice at Atsumu’s mocking tone. 

“He told me they’re on a break.” He states.

“Oh they are,” Atsumu affirms in a light tone before it drops down again pointedly. “But that’s just what it is ‘Samu. A break. Don’t get any ideas.” 

Osamu rolls his eyes even though Astumu can’t see it, ignoring the sudden pit in his stomach. 

“Oh look at you, playing protective older brother for once.” 

Atsumu’s voice turns back to its normal grating self. 

“Well someone has to! Especially when yer as stupid as you are!”

“I’m hanging up on ya now.” 

++

He’s still thinking about the phone call the next day as he carefully folds sheets of nori around rice, grip occasionally shattering the delicate sheet when he thinks too deeply about it. 

Osamu isn’t the _type_ to let things happen to him. Neither is Atsumu. It’s in their genes to be a massive pain in the ass and set the conversation, for better or for worse. It’s what’s gotten ‘Tsumu so far with volleyball and Osamu so successful with his business.

But now, _now,_ Osamu thinks, mind picturing the way Akaashi’s lashes spike wet against his cheekbones when Osamu drives into him _just right_ – 

Now, he’s fine sitting back and letting Akaashi Keiji just _happen_ to him. 

++

They’ve gotten into the habit of Osamu actually occasionally joining Akaashi in the library once he’s done with his shifts at Onigiri Miya. Mostly because it’s much easier if Osamu’s already there when Akaashi decides to forgo the turmoil of 19th century literature and engage with Osamu’s dick instead.

Osamu finds he really doesn’t mind it, even if Akaashi sometimes gets annoyed at the way Osamu taps the top of his pen against the table, or if he sometimes feels awkward hanging around a nice university when he never decided to attend one himself. 

The environment is helpful though, when he’s looking over spreadsheets and trying to determine the health of the pop-up, or looking over city permits trying to decide whether or not it’s worth investing in a liquor license. 

Or at least the environment was helpful until the hand Akaashi had been slowly clenching into a fist and releasing on the table over and over again as he makes his way through another painful mid-term paper stops its agitated movements and reaches under the table to meet Osamu’s. 

Akaashi moves Osamu’s hand up and places it on his inner thigh wordlessly, and Osamu doesn’t think twice before splaying his fingers out over the fabric of his jeans and digging his thumb into the soft skin he finds there. Akaashi’s face reveals no reaction, and Osamu’s eyes carefully track his expression under the brim of his cap as his hand slowly makes its way higher. 

He makes it pretty far before Akaashi’s pencil suddenly drops out of his grip and his mouth falls open with a short soundless gasp. 

“Myaa-sam–”

And then they find a private study room. 

++

Things continue like this for another few weeks, and Osamu can’t keep the pep out of his step even when Akaashi ignores him for days at a time, stuck in a rhythm of finishing essays just in time to start a new one as he tries to finish up the semester. His typical 2am phone calls start getting pushed further and further, to 3am, 4am, and they’d be a pain in the ass if they weren’t so damn hot. 

It’s almost going _well_ , Osamu thinks, because in the moments that Akaashi does seek him out it’s better than ever, and he even convinced him to come over to Osamu’s once with the promise of endless food and a paid cab fare. 

And then, as if by sheer cosmic force, the MSBY Black Jackals are released for a winter break at the same time that Akaashi Keiji’s semester finally ends. 

And Bokuto-san shows up at the pop-up the next day. 

++

It’s a shame, Osamu thinks, staring at Bokuto where he enthusiastically signs an autograph for a young kid who recognized him as he walked into the onigiri shop. 

He always thought Bokuto was good people. Other than the whole “coveting thy neighbor’s goods” on his own part. But alas. 

“Myaa-sam!” Bokuto booms out, sounding entirely too cheerful to be greeting a man who’s been recklessly and publicly debauching his not-boyfriend for the past few months. 

Osamu’s definitely been spending too much time around Atsumu lately. He doesn’t even feel that bad about it. 

“Bokuto-san,” he calls out, equally friendly as he steps out from behind the counter. “What brings you to Tokyo?” 

“Eh, the Jackals got some time off for the holidays,” he shrugs, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets and leaning back on his heels. “Plus I’m in the market for some property actually. I’m looking at buying a flat not too far from here.”

“Oh?” Osamu asks, suddenly feeling a little disoriented as Bokuto brings his gaze up to meet his. 

“Yeah,” Bokuto grins, edges of his smile betraying a hint of sharpness. “That third-year pro salary isn’t too bad. And I think it’d be good for me to spend a bit more time around here. Ya know, with family and all.” 

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Osamu stutters out after a second, taking a conscious step back from where he hadn’t even noticed Bokuto leaning slightly closer. 

“And I just wanted to thank you,” Bokuto continues, amber eyes drilling holes into Osamu’s. “For taking care of Akaashi-san while I was gone. I know university can get pretty hard on him sometimes.”

Osamu blinks, brain only beginning to process the way Bokuto describes their break as if it were a fucking vacation. 

“Lots of long nights in the library,” Bokuto says, while Osamu tries to decide whether Bokuto would really smash his face in in the middle of this crowded restaurant. 

He’s on the edge of concluding, _no, Bokuto would not_ , especially not after signing that child’s jersey, when Bokuto suddenly takes a step back and immediately reverts back to his cheerier self. 

“I’m actually about to go visit Keiji now–” and if Osamu doesn’t finally wince at that, “and I just thought I’d bring him some onigiri since I know he’s such a big fan.”

Bokuto steps around him, making his way up to the counter to order as he calls out behind his shoulder. “Anything you recommend?”

Osamu forces himself to move, smile somehow manifesting itself on his face as he turns back to the counter, with a weak, “Ah, maybe the salmon–”

He somehow manages to package everything up without spitting in it before he hands over the order in a daze. 

“Thank you Myaa-sam.” Bokuto says warmly, taking the bag and leaning down to the pin pad to leave an offensively big tip. 

“Have a great day,” he calls out behind him as he finally makes to leave, pushing the door open with a bump of one of those broad shoulders and stepping out into the cold air before turning the corner out of sight.

Osamu lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, bringing his forehead down to rest on the cool marble surface of the counter and ignoring the curious looks he knows some of his staff are shooting him.

Just as he closes his eyes, his phone vibrates with an incoming message, and he struggles for a moment with the decision to answer it when he finally fishes it out of his pocket. 

At a glance he can tell it’s a long block of text, sent from Akaashi, resting just under the hint of a very not-suitable-for-work picture that Akaashi had sent him a few days ago. The message begins with “ _Miya-san, while I’ve thoroughly enjoyed your company these past couple months I ultimately feel as though it’d be best–“_

He states at the message for a long time before clicking it shut and returning his forehead to the counter. 

Fuck. He hates it when Atsumu is right.

**Author's Note:**

> alternative title: akaashi keiji acts out 
> 
> because college gets to us all eventually


End file.
